


Winter Garden

by explicitncomplicit



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood Kink, Bondage, Character Death, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/F, Knifeplay, Non-Consensual Bondage, Rape, Sadism, Smut, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:13:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29078409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/explicitncomplicit/pseuds/explicitncomplicit
Summary: Ai is a young woman in love. Natalie is the beautiful woman who falls into her trap. Natalie wakes up in an abandoned factory bound, naked, terrified, and betrayed by her friend. Ai satisfies her desire for love by taking a life and delighting in pain. But why not indulge in pleasure before the end?
Kudos: 2





	Winter Garden

“Ai!” The sound of my name startles me out of my reverie, forcing me to refocus my attention. The lilt of the voice, the reverberating undertones of honey. I turn, closing my computer quickly, my heart already beginning to beat out of my chest.

Her. It is her.

Her hair is swept up in a short ponytail, golden as wheat. The bookbag on her back is pink, almost childish, a cartoon rabbit print. A simple, fluffy dress. Her makeup is vibrant and beautiful, matching gold eyeshadow and bold neon lipstick. A true artist. From one look, you can tell she lives for herself. You can tell she doesn’t give a fuck about what other people think.

When I had first talked to her, she’d told me of her ambitions, who she wanted to be. She wanted her art to inspire people. She wanted to make a difference. She wanted to help, provide others the help she had been denied. And, despite that denial, the smile on her face never wavered.

At her side, I don’t fit at all. My style is simple, lip gloss and eyeliner. Dark florals, large earrings. A general normal vibe. Like I didn’t want people to notice me. But she did. Her mere presence forced people to stand up and take notice.

First day of class, she noticed I didn’t have a partner. She’d asked me, specifically, because she noticed that I was alone. She was kind, considerate, bold, wonderful.

I fell in love with her. Loved her so much it hurt. Spending time with her, I loved her even more. Her moods, her struggles, her bravery.

I made sure to become her friend. To bask in her beauty, by her side.

My love overflows. She is so worthy of it. When I close my eyes, I see her face soaked in blood. I want her to be mine, forever.

I cannot focus during class, drawing sketches over and over, of her face and body and the designs I will draw for her.

I love her. I love her. I love her. I love her so much.

My face breaks into a sunny smile, unable to contain myself. “Natalie!” I wave her over, pulling out a chair. “It’s so good to see you.”

\----

“Come over later tonight! I can make lunch just for the two of us.”

I slide her phone into my bag, easy enough to take while she went to the bathroom. It is impossible to get open, but I need to be sure that she won’t contact anyone about where she’s going. There has to be no connection between me and her.

When she frantically tears apart her backpack, I feign innocence. “Maybe it’s at the bottom of your pack? You can always text when we get to the apartment.”

I wonder if she thinks this is a date. It is a thought which makes my heart flutter. A date… I’ve gone on some before, but never with anyone I’ve really liked. Usually I get crushes from a distance or on people outside my dating pool.

I take a roundabout route, avoiding cameras. My apartment building is dingy, but near campus, and I try to brush it off. Not like I have any control over it. Since it’s still relatively early, most people aren’t home yet.

I open the door, rummaging through my pack to find keys. Producing them, I open the door. My heart swims, my breath growing more shallow in anticipation.

Natalie looks briefly concerned, stepping through the threshold in front of me. “Hm? Are you all right, Ai? You look a little flushed.” Her voice is demur, containing just a hint of coy embarrassment, confirming that she does indeed think this might be a date. In the hallway mirror, I catch a glimpse of her blushing face, red and happy, a contrast to her normal bold persona.

Her voice makes my heart melt, like warm syrup, sugary and sweet. She is so beautiful. I want to preserve that beauty forever. I want to show her my love.

She has no time to react, the smell of wet chloroform dousing her. I snake my right arm around her neck, choking her, pressing the wet rag over her mouth and nose with my left. The cloth muffles her initial, instinctual, surprised shriek. I may not look it, but I’m strong. With the advantage of surprise, it’s easy to pin her.

Her body spasms as she realizes what is happening and tries to resist the urge to breathe, failing eventually. Finally, she goes slack. Briefly, in the hallway mirror, before she collapses, I see her eyes. Shock and terror, accentuated by her muffled screams. The tears forming in her eyes. Her expression is twisted as she claws at my arms, heaving, betrayed.

Those eyes, which look at me, the one she trusted. As if I was doing wrong. As if this isn’t love. This is the relationship she longed for, romantic and beautiful.

Once Natalie goes slack, I nudge the door closed behind me with a foot. I continue to hold the cloth in place, in case she’s playing dead.

I sink to the floor. The experience is too intense. I’m wet, my insides are flushed with heat and excitement. I bury my face in her wheat-colored hair. It smells like lavender, soft and silky.

I let the rag fall to the side, abandoning it on the ground. My right hand wanders down from it’s grip around her neck, tracing the curves of her body.

I stop. No. No, I can’t be careless. Even love is no excuse for carelessness or getting caught. I have to tie her up, make sure she can’t scream, move her.

\----

Her smooth skin is covered in goosebumps, reacting to the cold air of the abandoned building. She’s completely naked, pale and flushed pink, her small cock bare. Her body is completely slack, splayed out on the floor. I gave her a roofie to swallow back at the apartment, buying me time to sneak her down the fire escape and into my car.

The bonds are pretty, but practical, in the way I’ve developed a taste for. A typical bondage style, y-harness and rope traveling all the way down, tying her feet together. The rope is thick, pink nylon. I don’t know why. I tie her tightly to compensate, but I feel like making her slightly more comfortable than usual, for some reason. Is it my unusual libido? She’s among the most attractive of my victims, but it’s not like I haven’t had fun before…

No, it’s more than that. This isn’t just an expression of love. It isn’t just sex. This is a date for her too. It would certainly be rude for me to completely disregard her comfort, after she agreed to go on a date with me. I stifle a giddy giggle. The thought is a little funny, but somehow it doesn’t feel ridiculous.

Her eyes flutter open, just as I am suspending her on the hook I drilled into the ceiling for this purpose.

“Wha-” she muttered. Her expression is confused, still groggy. “Ai?” Even in her stunned state, her voice is still thick with tears and crackles with fear. Her fairly subdued reaction likely means that she still hopes for a logical explanation, that her conclusion is somehow faulty. I secure the rope quietly and step towards her, hungry and sharp.

Nobody wants to die. That is why they are beautiful. That is why I preserve them, when they are still so full of love and life… No, that is inaccurate reasoning. I simply want to love and kill, my love always blossoming into the irresistible desire to kill. A thank you. A gift. A pure, untainted, free feeling.

“I’m here, love,” I whisper in Natalie’s ear. My breath tickles her ear, warm and familiar. She sways gently in the air, the rope biting into her skin painfully, chafing and raising red welts.

She thrashes, but the bonds hold. This isn’t my first rodeo. “Ai? Ai, why are you doing this? Where am I? What are you going to do to me?” She tries to sound brave, but an edge of fear creeps into her voice. It’s that fear that does me in, wrapped behind a brave face, crumbling and on the verge of tears.

I slip my hands into my pants, finding warm wetness. From behind, I lay my chin on her shoulder, feeling her cool skin against mine.

“A-ai?” her voice trembles, the pitch rising, still trying to be brave, still trying to comprehend this incomprehensible situation.

“Natalie…” I stroke her sides, my fingers tingling lightly. She shudders at the touch, flinching away. “From the moment I laid eyes on you, I fell in love with you. You’re kind, compassionate, driven, optimistic...” I angle my head, suddenly nipping at her neck with my teeth, biting down hard. She lets out a squeak of surprise, her face pinching in pain. A short burst of pleasure shocks my system, the warmth traveling towards and making my head spin.

I let go of her neck, moving around to the front, my fingers still trailing against her skin. She gasps as the pressure subsides. Tears brim in her eyes, ready to fall. I couldn’t see it from the back, but her chest is heaving, failing to hold back panic. I smile slightly. My body is pressed against hers, radiating heat through my clothes, my breasts squished tightly against her small nipples, her cock rubs against me through the thin fabric. Her body sways slightly, adding to the delicious friction.

“As for your questions…” I hold her gaze, her brown eyes unable to look away. Confused and terrified, panicking and betrayed, a mixture of horror and just a tad turned on. She still sees me as her friend and potential lover. “You are far away from society, in a soundproofed room where nobody can hear you scream. I am doing this because I’ve fallen in love with you… And I am going to kill you. I will carve your life into your skin and leave you here, until you bleed to death.”

Her eyes go wide. Those words, as they have for so many others, bring to light the reality of the situation. She is already tied, already captured. This isn’t just about rape, she is fighting for her life. I know she has so much experience, living in this shitty world, and that is why I have such high expectations for her. Her struggling, her bleeding, her screaming, her begging, her broken and lifeless gaze…

She explodes. Her body rocks back and forth, bucking as she starts screaming. “Why? Why are you doing this? Help, help, somebody please help me! Help me, help me, help me!”  
I let her scream, useless as it is. I grin, my cunt throbbing and soaking. My fingers work to scratch the itch, unable to satisfy myself. She must be able to feel my fingers, grazing against her cock, bumping furiously against her. She recoils, but I don’t let her.

I lean forward and press my lips against hers, using my free hand to hold her face in place. My rough grip squeezes her cheeks, forcing her head upwards, pinky and ring finger under her chin. My eyes flutter closed, her unwilling mouth soft and coffee-flavored, unable to pull away, trying to shake her head free.

I break away, my breathing ragged. The kiss shuts her up.

Her face contorts with disgust, lips curling back and trembling, unable to hold back tears. They flow freely down her face, snot that she can’t wipe away, her unsteady lips caught between revulsion and fear. Her eyes look at me with pure disgust, angry defiance. The brave emotions try to hide the sense of helplessness that fuels her tears.

“I- I can’t believe I was friends with you,” she chokes out. “You’re disgusting, sick, deranged-” She breaks off, caught in a sob. “Please, please just let me go. I don’t want to die. I’ll give you what you want, just don’t do the rest-”

My fingers, still gripping her face, squeeze tighter. My long fingernails dig into her skin, leaving small indents of white. My nails break through the skin, barely, a trickle of blood running down her face. Natalie whimpers again, crying out as I break skin.

“I can’t. I need this,” I murmur. I wish I could wait. For the reddish marks on her neck and face, the already fading imprints, to turn purple and black and yellow. I wish I could keep her forever. But I know that isn’t how this works. I am too impatient.

My hips grind against her front. She sways, lower body barely held in place my grip on her face. It’s my turn to whimper, feeling unfulfilled. “Natalie…” I moan. My hand lets go of her face, trailing down her sides, clasping onto her back. She whimpers at the release, the startling absence of pain.

I move my own hand out of my pants. Slick with lubricant, I stroke her soft cock, my head fuzzy and filled with euphoria. She gasps and shudders as I touch her, but there is nowhere to run. I press my lips against hers, desperate and needy.

Is it just me or does her body resist less?

“I’m sorry for ruining your night,” I murmur. “But we can still do what you wanted…”

She shakes her head, the tears in her eyes flowing freely. “I don’t want it anymore… I never wanted to-” She chokes on her words. “I never wanted to fuck you. Please stop. I don’t love you.”

“Doesn’t matter.” I kiss her cheek, the blood on her face mingling with tears, bursting on my tongue, salty and metallic. Resting my head on her shoulder, I whisper in her ear, my crotch rubbing against her knee. “I love you, so how you feel doesn’t matter.” Her dick grows hot in my hands, hardening despite her best efforts. My nails dig into her back. She whimpers pathetically, her only response hot tears. “Besides, it looks like you’re feeling good too…”

“I- I can’t help that…” she pleads. It isn’t her fault for reacting to me. That doesn’t mean I won’t use her.

I grin at her, pushing down my jeans eagerly and kicking them aside. “Hmm? This is the date I promised you, Natalie.” The cold air brushes against my bare skin. I straighten and press my lips against hers, the wet warmth radiating between our bodies. Her cock kisses the outside of my soaking cunt. I moan against her lips, unable to hold back the sound. My arms snake around her body, fingernails digging into her back.

I thrust myself forward, moaning as her cock fucks me. Beneath me, Natalie whimpers, her eyes clouding over with pleasure. The part that hates herself for giving into me, buried by hedonistic pleasure. Her cock begins to twitch underneath me, more honest than her words.

My hips rock, fucking her faster. “Don’t you think you’re enjoying this too much, Natalie?” I tease, my eyes sparkling with lust. Her expression is slipping, still filled with tears, torn between the pain and the pleasure. As I fuck her, she drifts further and further from reality, further and further from the world where she pretends to be unafraid, closer and closer to the cold reality of the situation. Rape. Murder. Fear. Hatred. Desire. Love.

Breaking and breaking, the cracks in the façade appearing as I draw away from her, leaving her mouth hanging open. Unable to hide the squeaks and groans that accompany every thrust, my sharp nails leaving red marks in her back, the suspension of the ropes aiding the rocking motion of our hips.

“N-no, stop,” she protests. “You’re disgusting. You’re fucking sick. Let me go. I don’t want to die. I’ll do whatever you say.” The tears still flowing, how beautiful to be caught in this place, between pleasure and fear.

I pull away from her, the heat in my crotch throbbing, unsatisfied by the absence of cock. “Which one is it, Natalie? Will you do whatever I say or do you hate me?” My breath feels thick, my heart racing, the teasing tone and her reactions sending waves of dopamine rushing through my brain.

Natalie’s lips tremble, her body heaving and wracked with violent sobs. “I- I don’t know,” she wails. “Both. Both are true. N-no, neither. I’ll do whatever you want, I won’t tell anyone about this. Please-” she hiccups, her body spasming with another sob. “Please just don’t hurt me. If you love me as much as you say you do, you won’t hurt me. This isn’t love.” Her dick remains erect, betraying her, her body hanging limply, trembling in an attempt to cover herself, but unable to move. The bonds chafe her smooth skin, leaving red and irritated marks, digging into her limbs.

I walk behind her as she begs. I kneel down, hesitating as my hands brush against the assortment of knives I laid out in preparation for this moment. I flinch at her words, my expression settling into something cold and distant, like a reflective pool calming after a rock is dropped into it. “No, you’re wrong,” I reply quietly. “Pleasure is pain. Pain is pleasure.” Picking up a carving knife, the blade gleaming in the dull light of the warehouse, I stand, the knife hanging casually at my side as I walk back into my victim’s line of sight. Smiling softly, my eyes meet Natalie’s once more. Her eyes widen at the sight of the gleaming knife, straining against her bonds, her breath ragged. “Love trumps all. It is the most important emotion in all the world. The only emotion that can make me feel this way. The only emotion that can drive me to thank others for their existence, the only emotion that can fill my life with beauty. If I chase after this beautiful emotion, if I kill and I love...” My lips partly slightly, my expression far off. “This is happiness. This emotion, this freeing feeling, and the people who give me it…” My voice is rushed, thick with passion. I focus on her face and Natalie stares back at me in horror. “I want to love you forever, make you mine. You are mine now. Your pain will set me free. Your love will fuel me. The image of you will be imprinted into my mind forever. Beautiful. Wonderful.”

I step forward, my right hand snakes up, pressing the knife against her windpipe, a thin line of red blossoming from the sharp edge and trickling down her neck. It stains her pale skin in shimmering maroon. She goes still at the pressure, quiet except for a small gasp of terror. She squeezes her eyes shut and goes still, like a frightened jackrabbit, her body trembling at my touch.

My left hand slides down Natalie’s body, feeling the electric tingle of her bare skin, my fingers brushing over her erect nipples. “What?” I breathe. “Have I left you speechless? Come on, Natalie. No retorts? No insults? Don’t you want to struggle?” My hand finds what it’s looking for, her hard cock brushing against me.

“I’m not getting out of this alive,” she sniffles. Her breath is shallower than the ragged gasping and struggling before, her eyes red from crying and wet with tears. “I-it doesn’t matter. You’re crazy. I am going to die.”

“Maybe,” I whisper in her ear. “That may be. But I think you should still try. Who knows what could happen?” Deliberately, slowly, I remove the knife from her throat. Her eyes fixated on the gleaming of silver, I trail the tip downwards, the cold metal brushing against her torso, not enough to break the skin.

She holds her breath, her soft eyes begging for mercy.

I cut into her stomach, deep enough to expose the fat. The wound glimmers yellow, the marbled texture glistening in the light for a brief second before blood obscures the exposed layer. It drips down, staining her torso and splattering onto the concrete floor. Vibrant, deep, maroon.

Natalie wails in pain, her eyes wide and pupils dilated, her chest rising and falling erratically, her expression molten terror.

I thrust myself onto her hard cock, moaning at the combination of endorphins that floods my system. “You’re so beautiful…” I breathe. My mind feels fuzzy at the pleasure. “Still hard? Who would’ve guessed you’re a masochist, Natalie?”

She shakes her head, turning away from me. Her eyes burn with fruitless defiant fire. Natalie screams, wordless and pure, her body struggling against her restraints and bucking against me. I gasp, the motion driving her dick further into my cunt. My fingers curl around the ropes of her y-harness, refusing to let her escape my touch. Her small breasts press against me. I cry out, moaning with pleasure. “Fuck. Fuck. Keep struggling just like that, love.”

I tease Natalie, my knife pressing against her stomach, near the first injury. I increase the pressure slowly, enjoying her desperate gasps, her struggles as she attempts to squirm from the white-hot pain that floods her nerves. A trickle of blood increases to a stream, vibrant maroon droplets staining the floor. “S-stop! Stop!” she begs. My hands hold her steady, in place despite her trashing, finding handholds in her binding. Deliberate, confident strokes. No matter how enjoyable, I can’t have her ruining my design.

My knife cuts into her again, carving the planned design, a hibiscus flower. A flower for her beauty. I etch the tiny petals around the stem, the pistil and filaments, nicking her over and over to achieve the definition of twenty tiny cuts. Her face trembles. She no longer has control of her body, I can tell that much. Her screams are beginning to die down, weaker now, her voice failing her. Her dick can’t deny itself the pleasure anymore, the pain mixing with the intensity of sex, melting into one.

A wide grin inches onto my face, my cunt quivering. Natalie’s screams spike, her volume renewed by the warm blood flowing down her stomach. I press myself against her, biting into her shoulder, the taste of blood and sweat bursting on my tongue, tangy and salty. My pace increases, moving my hips desperately, thrusting against her hard cock. “I’m getting close,” I pant.

My knife cuts into her skin, beginning the next section of my design. A protea flower, overlapping delicate petals, the stem twisting into the earlier design of the hibiscus. Blood drips from the wounds, glittering in the dim light. Yellow fat and matte organs peeking out behind the vibrant color. The motion of my thrusting feels indistinguishable from her struggles.

I gasp, my back arching. “Fuck, I’m coming,” I manage to gasp out. The sensation stops me in place, shuddering slightly, my mind empty. A couple deep breaths calm me down, peeling myself from Natalie.

Swinging in the air, the tip of her cock teases my wet pussy. She’s stopped struggling, her voice refusing to leave her slack mouth, trying to scream with tears in her eyes. She only manages weak mewls, like a pathetic dying cat.

“Come on, darling,” I murmur. “Don’t give up on me now.” Roughly, I grab a fistful of her honey-colored hair, yanking her head up. Her lips linger inches away from mine. Her eyes are emptying, she’s losing consciousness.

I chuckle. “Not yet, love.” I jam my fingers into an open wound. Her eyes widen in pain, a wet groan bubbling from her mouth. “I didn’t even cut into you that deeply,” I say, trying not to let my disappointment color my voice.

I sigh, the broken horror in her eyes pacifying the sadistic urge that marvels at her beauty. Tears roll down her cheeks, silent and scared. Lips trembling, Natalie averts her gaze from mine, squeezing her eyes shut. I yank at her hair, almost ripping it from her scalp and snapping her head back. “Eyes on me,” I order sharply. A look of terror flits across her face, crumpling her expression into despair.

She holds my gaze, her breath escaping her body in panicked and spastic gasps.

“How about this, darling,” I say smoothly, trying to honey my voice with a convincing tone. “If you can stay conscious for long enough, I might just let you go.” I smile softly. _Trust me, darling. Trust me._ Or, in the murder business, what is known as a full blown lie, simply to prolong the enjoyability of a kill.

She nods wordlessly. “Please,” she begs, her voice coming out as a hoarse croak. “I just don’t want to die.”

I carve into her, marveling at the beauty of her blood and her wounds. The marks from my bite and careless grip turn purple, her blood splashing over the floor, coating my clothes and shoes.

I try my best, irritating her wounds and stroking her body, hoping to keep her awake. Instead, she now hangs limply, tied by pink rope, now soaked in red. Several towels litter the floor, the price of perfecting my design.

Gently, I cup her face in my left hand, my designs bleeding and running into each other. In the struggle, Natalie’s lip split, chapped and dry from screaming. I kiss her, her breath stirring the air faintly.

The taste of blood, metallic and tangy, bursts on my tongue. “So c-cold…” Natalie murmurs against my lips.

“I know,” I reply. Her eyes flutter closed, her head falling forward.

Jabbing at the wound produces no result, her body completely slack. Not just unconsciousness. This is death.

I pet her head, smoothing down the harried tangle. “You lasted so long, Natalie. You were everything I hoped you would be. I love you, Natalie. More than ever.” I press a light kiss against her head and straighten up with a light smile. “And I am almost done. Just a few more finishing touches, before you go cold…” My knife cuts into her skin.

I step back, smiling, admiring my work. My heart feels full, brimming with excitement and love and happiness and pride.

Her body is carved with flowers, vines spiraling around her arms, twinging together in an intricate and delicate design. “A garden, beautiful and artistic. Just like you. Vibrant and full of life. Hibiscus for beauty, protea for courage, peony for compassion... ” I smile happily. “I love you, Natalie. I really, really love you.”


End file.
